


The Boys of Summer.

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Counselor Glenn, First Kiss, M/M, Summer Camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 14:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On top of the normal issues that came with being 23, Glenn had a major problem. He was two weeks into a four month job as a camp counselor, most of his campers were snot-nosed little brats and he was in love with Camp Woodbury's archery instructor: the forty year old, surly, gorgeous archery instructor who smoked like a chimney and cursed far more than was appropriate for someone working at a kid's summer camp.</p><p>Okay, maybe love was a bit strong of a word.  But still.  It really was a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boys of Summer.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Psmith73](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psmith73/gifts).



> So one night, while I was half asleep, the idea for this popped into my head and originally, I was expected it to maybe top out at 2000 words. yeah, that didn't happen. anyways, although I've yet to figure out where the actual idea came from, I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you lovely readers enjoy it! 
> 
> PS: Title comes from the song of the same name. Also, my knowledge of summer camp mostly comes from movies so if this is completely off, please let me know. (:

It was a mere two weeks into summer when Glenn realized he had a huge problem. Frankly, he already had a lot of problems; his student loan debt just kept mounting with each semester, his cell phone had a gigantic crack right across the screen and his parents were perennially disappointed with his every action. But when it came to the short term, none of those were nearly as problematic as the issue currently before him. 

He was two weeks into a four month job as a camp counselor, most of his campers were snot-nosed little brats and he was in love with Camp Woodbury's archery instructor: the forty year old, surly, _gorgeous_ archery instructor who smoked like a chimney and cursed far more than was appropriate for someone working at a kid's summer camp.

Okay, so “in love” might have been the wrong expression. Glenn had never been one to subscribe to the whole love at first sight trope and besides, he was pretty sure that sixty percent of whatever he was feeling was pure lust because even with the smoking and the surliness, the guy (whose name was Daryl) had really nice eyes that were kinder than his words and the best biceps Glenn had ever seen. And sure, the thick Georgian accent really didn't hurt but there was more to it than lust. Maybe. There had to be. 

Either way, he was (metaphorically) screwed. 

A day after he was hit with this revelation, Glenn had to escort his group of campers to the archery range. He handed them off to Daryl (who merely grunted when Glenn said hi) and retreated to the shade of a nearby tree, because it was hot as hell and teaching the kids how to shoot a bow was not part of his job. Instead, he just had to keep an eye on them because there was only so much Daryl could do at one time and Glenn had this inkling that at least two of his campers were budding psychopaths who would rather kill each other with the bows than shoot the tattered paper targets they were supposed to be aiming at. Admittedly, he probably spent more time staring at Daryl than he should have but really, he couldn't help it. All the counselors and instructors were given these godawful brown shirts as part of their uniforms and Glenn had been convinced that no one could make them look attractive but then Daryl had gone and sawed off the sleeves (with a knife by the looks of it) and yeah, Glenn definitely hadn't been looking at his campers for at least five minutes. 

“Hey there, tiger.” His co-counselor Maggie, who was in charge of the girls in their group, sat down beside him, scooting in close until she was completely in the minimal shade as well. Besides being his co-counselor, Maggie was his ex-girlfriend. Well, sort of his ex-girlfriend. Technically, he supposed the proper term was ex-friend with benefits but him and Maggie were still friends, good friends actually; she'd been the one who'd gotten him his job. Whatever they were, she was one of the few people at the camp that Glenn didn't have to pretend to like.

“Oi!” Maggie sharply elbowed him in the side and it was only then that he realized he'd never answered her initial greeting. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away from Daryl's upper arms so that he could at least pretend to pay attention to the campers, most of whom were still fumbling with their bows. “I was just thinking.”

“Oh, I bet you were,” she grinned, smacking the gum in her mouth. “I bet you were just thinking of all sorts of fun things. You've got it _bad_.” 

“I do not,” he said, trying his best to sound genuine but that was hard to do when you couldn't even convince yourself that you were telling the truth. One of the campers screwed up gloriously and Glenn had to hide his chuckles in a bout of fake coughing. It wasn't that he hated most of his group; it was just that most of them were spoiled rich kids whose parents mostly showed their love through money. Listening to Daryl take them down a peg was probably more fun than it should have been but then again, Glenn had never professed that he was a good person. 

“Oh please, I ain't blind,” Maggie said. It looked like she had more to say but suddenly, she was up on her feet, her features instantly hardening into the expression Glenn recognized as her _I am a mature and responsible adult_ face.

“Beth! Just where in the hell do you think you're going?” she hollered. Glenn was pretty sure it was against some kind of ethics for Maggie's younger sister to be in their group but he didn't really care enough to question it. Speaking of her younger sister, she'd obviously tried to pull yet another fast one on Maggie; every chance she got, she tried to sneak away with a boy from their group named Jimmy. Glenn knew that he was supposed to be preventing it from happening and usually, he caught Jimmy but when it came to the archery station, he was always a tad too distracted to notice. Once Maggie had gotten her sister and Jimmy back to where they were supposed to be, she sat back down, spitting her gum out to the side. 

“Why don't you just talk to him for Christ's sake 'stead of fawning over him?”

“Because Daryl hates everyone,” Glenn stated simply and on cue, Daryl hollered at a kid who had come dangerously close to nailing another camper with an arrow. “Because he's straight. Because he's forty, really Maggie, I could go on and on.” She merely shrugged and flicked a small insect off her knee, her eyes moving to where Daryl was grabbing another bolt of arrows from the small archery shed. 

“He doesn't hate you. Has he ever yelled at you?”

“I don't think he's ever _spoken_ to me.” 

“Better than him yelling at you all the time. Trust me, it isn't necessarily a bad sign.” Before she could say more, one of the campers was calling her name and she waded back into the fray. After a moment of contemplation, Glenn decided to follow her because the shade was starting to disappear and frankly, he was afraid that his staring was starting to get a bit obvious. She may have come across as a bit harsh but Maggie was genuinely good with their campers; at the moment, she was bent over helping one of the tinier girls get a proper grip on the bow while Daryl worked with one of the guys. Glenn took a quick headcount of the boys and when he finished, he realized that one of the older kids in the group, some thirteen year old with bad manners, was unabashedly staring right at Maggie's ass. 

“Randall!” he yelled, making the kid jump and drawing the attention of most of the others around him. “Keep your eyes where they belong or I will throw you in that lake.” 

“Sorry Glenn,” he muttered, shrinking back. Behind Glenn, there was a snort and when he whipped around, Daryl was staring right at him and Glenn would have sworn to every deity he could think of that the instructor was _smirking_ at him. He forced himself to turn away and really hoped that any of the kids who saw him blushing would just assume he had a sunburn. 

“Thanks for that,” Maggie said once she was done helping her camper. “Kid's kind of a creep. Beth goes to school with him.” She glanced quickly back and forth before leaning forward, practically pressing her lips against his ear. 

“By the way, Daryl ain't straight either.” 

“ _What?_ ” She obviously had no intention of saying anything more; she merely grinned before sliding away, turning her attention to another one of the campers. Glenn looked sideways at where Daryl was demonstrating how to load a crossbow, hair falling into his eyes and he groaned, wiping sweat off of his forehead. 

Fucked. He was so fucked.

***

Another two weeks went by, another two long, agonizing weeks that left Glenn filled with more sexual frustration than all his adolescent campers combined. He was thankful that his group only visited the archery field every two days because seeing Daryl any more than that would have been absolute torture.

And then came the capture the flag game. 

The campers only stayed for week long periods at a time, which meant that the counselors had weekends off. Usually, Glenn spent that time hanging out with Maggie and catching up on sleep but the second to last weekend in June was apparently reserved for a capture the flag game between the counselors. He'd tried to beg out of it because even though he was quite fast, even semi-organized sports usually ended badly for him. But Maggie had absolutely refused to listen to him and she'd signed him up anyways and, although he couldn't prove it, he was absolutely positive that she had everything to do with him being on Daryl's team. 

It was a cloudy Saturday and it felt like there was going to be rain later in the day but more importantly, Daryl was _talking_ to him. Not grunting or smirking, actually speaking words. Sure, they all revolved around strategy (Daryl was _really_ into the game, right down to planning routes of attack and devising fairly elaborate defense tactics) but it didn't matter. In his mind, it still counted. Even more important than that, however, was that Daryl had designated him to be their main flag grabber and Glenn was absolutely determined to make sure that Daryl didn't regret that decision. 

It was a long two hours and by the end of it, Glenn was covered in sweat and bruises from head to toe and he was pretty sure that his left ankle was twisted but they'd won every round. One of the other counselors, some guy in his twenties that Glenn had only spoken to once or twice was bleeding from his nose and once he glimpsed the still-damp blood smeared on Daryl's elbow, Glenn counted his lucky stars (and reminded himself to thank Maggie) that he was on Daryl's team.

He was still panting when Daryl came round in front of him, dropping a hand onto his shoulder. The heel of his palm was pressed against Glenn's collarbone and Glenn was pretty sure that it should have been illegal for such a small gesture to be so overwhelming. 

“Good job kid,” he muttered, squeezing tightly before he let go and Glenn completely blamed his buckling legs on his twisted ankle. 

There were still two months left. He was going to fucking _explode._

***

The rest of the summer actually passed by fairly quickly, much to Glenn's dismay. Part of it was due to the fact he had to go back to school once again and face even more debt but a lot of it had to do with Camp Woodbury itself. Admittedly, he'd only been interested in the job initially because hey, jobs were hard to come by. But getting to work alongside Maggie every day turned out to be much less awkward than he'd initially anticipated and really, even if some of the kids were assholes, he was essentially getting paid to go swimming and canoeing and play games all day. Really, it was one of the best jobs he could have asked for.

And then there was the Daryl thing, of course. 

While Glenn still wanted to tackle the guy into the nearest bush and make out with him until his lips were raw, he had also started to genuinely like the guy for more than his looks and his voice. Most of that had to do with the fact that, ever since the victorious capture the flag game, Daryl had actually started talking to him. It had been small things at first, one word answers to tentative questions but in time, he'd started branching out, using sentences and, occasionally, small paragraphs. Eventually, he had stopped waiting for Glenn to speak first; when Glenn brought his group over to the archery field, Daryl started greeting him with _hey kid_ and he always made some form of conversation in between making sure the campers didn't accidentally kill or maim each other. 

If it had been anyone else, Glenn would have considered it to be mere friendliness, but this was Daryl. Sure, he didn't quite hate _everyone_ ; even though he was generally brusque and downright rude to some of the more entitled brats, he actually did have a soft spot for some of the kids, particularly the ones who had been sponsored in order to come to the camp. Daryl seemed to have a knack for finding those ones and he was a lot kinder to them. But despite that, Glenn rarely ever saw him make even a token attempt to talk to most of the other counselors, which made the near-daily conversations he had with him even more significant. 

But still. Glenn knew that he was absolutely biased. He'd always been fairly good at helping others with their problems, at analyzing them and pointing out what they could do but when it came to his own, he was pretty well hopeless. He knew that, logically, everything could have been solved if he just _asked_ Daryl if he felt the same way but that carried a pretty damn big set of risks on its own. Even if there was no chance of a relationship, Glenn was enjoying the easy kind of friendship they'd fallen into and he really didn't want to ruin that over something so stupid. The other option was to simply say nothing, to pretend as best as he could that he didn't have a stupid crush on the guy who was nearly twice his age and smoked way too much. 

He'd never really been good at lying, or even pretending for that matter, but he planned on doing the best he could, for his sake and for Daryl's. 

The second last day of camp didn't so much sneak up as it sprang out of nowhere. Glenn was on autopilot for most of the day, trying his best not to think about Daryl. He was twenty-three, he should _not_ have been this affected by something so stupid as a summer crush. Hell, he was too damn old to have a summer crush in the first place. 

He thought that he was going to make it through the day successfully until the sun went down. It was tradition that, as the summer wound down, the owners of the camp put on a small fireworks show. Maggie had been playing it up all summer, saying that it was almost as good as the one they had back home but frankly, he thought she was over-hyping it. Sure, the camp did make quite a bit of money off of the camper fees but fireworks were expensive as hell, a lesson he'd learned in the brief pyromaniac phase he'd had in early adolescence. Nonetheless, once the sun was no more than a orange glow on the horizon, he let Maggie drag him down to the beach with only a little fuss. The campers were intermingling down by the sand while the counselors were up higher on the grass, most of them clumped together in small groups. However, Daryl was sitting by himself off to one side and as soon as Maggie's eyes landed on him, she grabbed Glenn by the sleeve of his hoodie and started pulling him in Daryl's direction. 

“Maggie, what the hell are you doing?” he hissed, trying to sound inconspicuous, nearly tripping over another counselor's leg. Daryl hadn't seen them coming yet but any second, he was going to look up and Glenn was going to be stuck.

“Doing you a goddamn favor,” she shot back. “Now you better do something or I'll tell him 'bout that dream you had and the cat will be out of the bag anyway.” Part of Glenn wanted to throw a clever retort back at Maggie but he could feel himself blushing so it was too damn late. She shoved him towards Daryl before taking off, sitting a little further down the beach. Making a run for it really wasn't an option; he knew that Maggie would have no problem keeping her word and he really didn't think that Daryl needed to know the dirty details of his wet dreams. So, steeling himself, he forced his feet to take the last few steps. 

“This spot already taken?” he asked. Daryl looked up at him and although Glenn couldn't see too well in the rapidly approaching darkness, he was fairly positive that Daryl smiled, just a little bit. 

“Nah. Go 'head kid.” Glenn sat down and tried not to cough when smoke from Daryl's cigarette wafted into his mouth. He was pretty sure that Daryl wasn't supposed to be smoking around the kids but they were all further down towards the water and besides, he'd never really listened to that rule anyways. After a few very long, awkward minutes of sitting in silence, where Glenn tried very hard to think of something to say, Daryl coughed and when Glenn glanced sideways, the older man was holding a flask towards him. 

“Want some?” 

“Really?” Daryl just shoved the flask closer to him and, after a cursory look around, Glenn took a small sip from it because he could definitely go for some liquid courage. It'd been a long, long time since he'd had any whiskey and it burned the entire way down his throat. 

“Thanks,” he managed to cough, his words nearly drowned out as the first firework went off above them. Daryl took a massive gulp, like he was drinking nothing stronger than water, before stowing the flask back inside the leather vest he was wearing over his uniform shirt. The fireworks were pretty, without a doubt, but Glenn was more interested in the sight beside him, in the way that the explosions of light enhanced Daryl's sharp cheekbones. There was a hole in the knee of Daryl's jeans and another one starting higher up on his thigh and Glenn really want to push his fingers through the rips until he was touching bare skin. 

“Have you, uh, heard about that new zombie movie that just came out?” Glenn wasn't sure where the statement had really come from but at the very least, it was better than silence. He glanced over in Maggie's general direction but she was apparently too caught up in the fireworks to pay him any mind. 

“Nah.” 

Well, apparently that was the end of that conversation. Daryl took one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out into the grass and Glenn leaned back onto his hands, trying to put his entire focus onto the glimmering fireworks above him, because his adventures on the ground weren't having any success. 

“Haven't been to a movie in years.” Okay, so maybe his ventures weren't failing completely. 

“Why not?” Daryl leaned back onto his elbows, face still tilted up towards the sky and Glenn was absolutely _not_ staring, not at all. 

“Ain't got anyone to go with. Seems pointless to go by yourself, y'know?” Glenn tried very hard not to show how much joy Daryl's statement had brought him. Maggie had been fairly certain that Daryl didn't have a partner and while he'd never mentioned one in any of his conversations with Glenn, he also hadn't denied the existence of one. This was progress. He could attempt to work with this. 

“Yeah, I guess.” When Glenn managed to detach his eyes away from Daryl's face, they flicked down to the grass beneath them. With Daryl's new position, Glenn's splayed fingers were only an inch or two away from Daryl's elbow and, hardly aware that he was doing it, he shifted his hand just a little bit closer.

“Does it look good?” Glenn looked back up and sure, Daryl may not have been looking directly in his eyes (he'd noticed that he had a problem with eye contact) but he was still looking at Glenn's face, no doubt about it. 

“Does what look good?” 

“The movie, dumbass,” Daryl muttered but there was no malice or anger in the words; there actually seemed to be a strange amount of fondness imbued in them. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Looks okay, I guess.” Truth be told, Glenn was hardly aware of what he was saying because, taking a deep breath, he slid his hand across the grass so that the tip of his pinkie was just barely grazing against Daryl's elbow. It was such a tiny point of contact, hardly worth mentioning really, but even over the noise of the fireworks, Glenn had heard a tiny intake of breath from Daryl. And he wasn't flinching away from the touch; rather, Glenn was pretty sure he'd shifted closer by an inch or so. This was good, this was _really_ good. 

And then the fireworks were over, the campers were cheering and Glenn realized he had blown it. He'd lost the rest of his chance because he'd been too much of a wimp to actually come out and _say_ anything and-

His cell phone was vibrating in his pocket. Thankfully, he didn't have to move the hand that was still touching Daryl's arm in order to check the lone text message waiting in his inbox, the words slightly hard to read due to the crack still spidering across his screen. 

_Don't worry bout your campers, ill get them if you get him. ;)_ He looked back over to where Maggie was just standing up and when he caught her eye, she gave him a thumbs up, briefly flashing him a smile before she started corralling their campers.

One last shot. He couldn't blow it. 

“Can I walk back with you?” He was already mentally preparing himself for a smart response from Daryl but instead, the older man just shrugged and stood up, taking another quick swig from his flask. 

“Yeah. Sure. C'mon.” Daryl offered out his hand to tug Glenn up but, even once Glenn was back on his feet, he didn't let go. He started towards the woods that separated the beach from their cabins and Glenn was pretty sure that his feet were moving purely on autopilot because he was far too busy staring down at the shadow of where his hand was still attached to Daryl's. His phone vibrated again but this time, he ignored it. He'd tell Maggie what had happened later. 

Glenn was glad that Daryl knew where he was going, because he really couldn't see fuck all. They didn't talk but they also didn't let go of each other's hand and Glenn could just feel himself grinning like an idiot. Things weren't supposed to happen this way, things weren't supposed to be so _good_ but he was not going to be stupid and question it. 

Before long, they came out of the woods just opposite of the cabin that Glenn knew Daryl shared with the swimming instructor and he didn't have a clue what to do. From the sounds of things, the majority of the counselors and campers were still back at the beach; if Glenn listened carefully, it sounded like they had been pulled into an impromptu singalong and he was definitely glad that he was missing that. 

“Guess we're here,” he said. “It's, uh. It's a nice cabin.” 

“Yeah. Stayed in worse.” The words were quiet, even quieter than Daryl's usual mutters and Glenn could feel something happening, a kind of tension vibrating in the air around them. It was almost tangible against his skin, making his nerves tremble and when he finally muttered _fuck it_ to himself and kissed Daryl, that tension shot through the roof. For a moment, Daryl didn't move, just stood there stock still and Glenn couldn't help but think that he'd completely misread the situation somehow. But, just as he was ready to pull away, Daryl not only kissed him back, he pressed him up against the nearest tree and tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging at the strands that brushed against the back of his neck. The bark of the tree was making the back of his shirt ruck up but that wasn't of any real importance; what was important was that Glenn was finally getting to touch those arms he'd been staring at all summer, was able to feel Daryl's muscles shift under his skin. Daryl tasted like whiskey, like liquid courage and Glenn chased after the taste, dragging his tongue across Daryl's lips. Daryl's calloused fingers were moving across his hips and around to his back, pulling him closer and closer until Glenn wasn't really sure where he ended and Daryl began. 

By the time Glenn had to pull away, gasping for breath, he had managed to work both of his hands into Daryl's hair and he was pretty sure that he was going to have a massive scrape on his lower back, from both Daryl's rough nails and the trunk of the tree. After he pulled away, Daryl leaned back in long enough to nip the corner of Glenn's bottom lip and somehow, Glenn wasn't surprised that Daryl had a thing for biting. 

“That movie you were talking 'bout,” he said, fingernails still biting against Glenn's back, “did you... did you want to see it?' 

“Like, tomorrow? After all the campers leave?” Daryl nodded, his nose brushing against Glenn's cheek and Glenn chuckled nervously in response. “Not really.” He could feel Daryl flinch against the words, could feel him beginning to pull away and he _really_ needed to start thinking before he said anything. 

“What I would like to do," he said hurriedly, "is kiss you a little more. A lot more, actually, today and tomorrow and the next day and all month, really, if that's alright with you.” For another few moments, Daryl stood completely still and Glenn was pretty sure he should have just shut up and said yes to the movie date. But then Daryl was responding and sure, his response was wordless but since it consisted of his mouth on Glenn's neck and his stubble scratching against his collarbone, he was more than okay with it. 

Despite the fact that the Daryl situation had resolved itself rather nicely, Glenn knew he still had plenty of other shit to deal with. In less than a week, he was going to add even more money to his student debt, his phone was even more fucked than it had been at the beginning of the summer and he didn't even want to begin to imagine his parent's reaction when (or, more realistically, if) he told them about Daryl. But really, although he was well aware that all those issues existed, they seemed trivial at the moment because Daryl was taking his hand again and leading him towards his cabin, muttering something about _they'll be singing for awhile_. 

As they went up the steps and into the cabin, Glenn quickly reached into his pocket and glanced at the text message. Sure enough, it was from Maggie and it simply read _carpe diem_ , with one of her customary winkie faces added on. He grinned at it and shoved it back into his pocket mere seconds before Daryl was pushing him up against the door and continuing to work on his neck, nipping at his collarbone and the hollow of his throat as he shrugged his leather vest off onto the floor. 

_Seize the day._ Maggie always had given him good advice.


End file.
